


Your Choice...

by DragonRider1



Series: Cinnamon Smoke and Ironbark [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Mention of Iron Bull/Dorian, Minor Violence, Vague Mention of Affairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonRider1/pseuds/DragonRider1
Summary: A choice was made. One that seemed like no choice at all, that cost so much for the mere hope to save so many. Inquisitor Lavellan drank from The Well of Sorrows, always impulsive and self-sacrificing. But for every choice made and every path we take, we risk losing as much as is gained...and sometimes even more still.
Relationships: Lavellan/Trevelyan, Male Lavellan/Male Trevelyan
Series: Cinnamon Smoke and Ironbark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/223838
Kudos: 1





	1. To Leave

**Author's Note:**

> A little more detailed warning notes, specifically for this chapter; only because a lot of stuff is happening and it's somewhat deep. But has caused some discomfort before.
> 
> Some Light Depiction of Depressive Behaviors  
> Extremely Mild Violence, as in someone gets slapped (possibly rightfully so, depending on how you look at it)  
> Extremely Vague Reference to an Ongoing Affair and a Resulting Child (tertiary characters)

It had been three weeks now since he'd barely seen a glimpse of Trevelyan. He wasn't sure where they stood anymore, if...if they still stood anywhere together at all.

"Inquisitor Lavellan?" Josephine's inquiring voice called up the stairs and Lavellan sighed, gently spreading his fingers through his dark hair. It was getting long again, he'd have to ask Leliana for another cut. He glanced down at his desk, the paperwork barely filled out and the whispers in the back of his mind faded back to a hum.

"I'm in Josie." He placed his pen down and rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tiredness. Between the whispers of the well and Trevelyan's absence, he wasn't sleeping. Too many thoughts and foreign conversations kept him from it, even as reality seemed to haze over.

He heard Josephine ascending the last flight of stairs and smiled wearily at her, once she reached the top step.

"In-Inquisitor." Josephine started, before silently making her way over. Lavellan surprised as she continued around the desk to his side, confusion in his eyes as he looked up at her. "...Assan, when did you last sleep?" She asked, cool fingertips pressed to his cheek and he only just realized how hot he felt.

"I've...dozed." Assan admitted, the touch grounding him so he felt the burn of his skin and a pressing pain well in his throat. His stomach dropped at the feeling and tears pressed behind his eyes. He closed his eyes to try and reign himself back together; he breathed through his mouth hoping to compensate for the tightness in his chest.

"Assan!" The stern tone in Josephine's voice caused him to jump slightly and a tear slid down his cheek. He opened his eyes since trying to hold back the tears was clearly in vain.

"Sorry, Josie. Please don't be angry." He tried keeping his voice light and teasing, but even he could hear the pain drenching his words. He really didn't want to disappoint anyone else, not right now when there was no one to fall back on.

"Maker, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm worried. We all are. You haven't been yourself lately and Inquisitor Trevelyan..." Josephine bit her lip and Assan lowered his head, into his hands.

"I know. This is my fault. I just...I made another stupid decision and this time I-I don't think I can fix it."

"What you did was not stupid. Irresponsible perhaps, but you stopped Corypheus from gaining the knowledge of The Well and preserved a piece of your culture. You did what you believed necessary."

"And now I have a never-ending string of voices within me, my...Caswyn is angry with me, and a whole Inquisition I've failed." Assan could feel his voice run thin, the lump his throat only growing.

"You have not failed us. We still follow and will continue to. You've been here practically working yourself to death for our victory. You merely need to rest, to take care of yourself as well."

Assan sucked in a deep breath before looking up from between his hands, Josephine stared back with a look of stern conviction on her face. He managed a very weak chuckle and stood up.

"Okay, Josie...thank you." Assan leaned in and hugged her, his friend's embrace so comfortable after so long in the chair. He felt like falling asleep right there in her arms, but with a little will and a weary breath he pulled away. Josephine nodded at him and he nodded back, before he shuffled towards his bed and crawled in.

He could hear Josephine walking around the room and blowing out the candles; while he curled up, still wearing a shirt to big for his shoulders and too tight around his waist.

"Goodnight, Inquisitor."

"Thank you, Josie."

* * *

Assan wasn't sure how long he slept, for once not fighting with the voices in his head. Rather as he woke slowly, it almost sounded like they were singing a lullaby. He had an inkling that something had woke him up, but he knew it wasn't the voices for once. 

He couldn't place anything else either though, not until a loud bang rang through his room and he jumped. Sluggish sleep still in his limbs, he scrambled off the side of the bed onto the floor and fumbled with his dagger by the nightstand. 

"Inquisitor Lavellan!" A very angry, yet somehow familiar voice followed the sound of someone stomping up the steps. Assan struggled to place the voice as he pulled himself up from the floor. The skittering of claws also came from his staircase, before his varghest ran around the corner of the banister towards him and jumped beneath his vacant sheets. 

It helped ease his mind some, Meatball would have showed aggression towards a stranger or threat. This was definitely someone he knew, even if he still couldn't recall who in his fog of sleep. 

It wasn't till a tanned woman with brown curls, pulled back into a tail appeared in his stairs, that Assan knew who it was. She wore pure rage, and it only made the unsettled feeling return to his body. 

"Lady Trevelyan! I didn't...is-" 

"You will keep your mouth shut and let me talk. Do you understand, young man?" The voice she used was far too reminiscent of his own mother. He could only nod in shock. "To answer you, no. Caswyn has not returned with me. He is back at the estate, a wreck mind you. He's barely slept, which you should well know is the complete opposite of him. He is upset. My son has cried because of you and I do not appreciate that." Lady Trevelyan walked further into the room and begun to pace. "He loves you, I hope you know that. Quite dearly. He would stand by you no matter what, give his life or limb for you. He stood up to Bann for you, faced every backlash and backhand from our _family_ for you and you've hurt him. I will not-" 

"You think I don't know that!? I wasn't trying to play with him or hurt him. This was for my people, our culture. This is what I did for them. I figured there would be some understanding, that I'm still an elf. Even if I love a _shem_. I've not tried hiding that from you or your _family_. Even if you have! I figured you'd have some better understanding of that since you're in love with his father after 27 years! I-" 

A crack echoed through the room and Assan reeled back, cradling his cheek. He breathed deeply through his nose, glaring at Lady Trevelyan. 

"How dare you." Lady Trevelyan radiated fury, but took a step back. "I love his father, I love my son, and I do not understand their elven heritage. But my son was raised as human, has passed for one for 27 years and I personally take ownership of that awful decision. None of this is about who you are as a person and if you believe it is, then you don't deserve my son's love. He is upset because you made this choice without him. What if you had died from this, if it changed you? Turned you against him, your friends, your own people? Would you want him to stay by you? To kill you and protect what you love? You are a damn fool. Not because you preserved your people, but because you did it thinking of no one but yourself." 

Assan tried to maintain his glare, but eventually shame won out and he hung his head. 

"You're...right, I did." 

"I know, and I apologize for hitting you." Lady Trevelyan spoke softer. "My son is angry because you didn't think of him or the two of you. He was right beside you the whole time, yet you never thought to ask him or tell him what you were willing to do. He has spoken of little else than your well-being, his fear for you going forward. The fear that you are willing to give up your whole self, for something no one asked of you." 

" Can you tell him I'm sorry." 

"No. Tell him yourself, if he is willing to hear it. Take care of yourself Assan, all of us wish you well and hope dearly it was worth it." 

Assan heard her retreat and let out a shuddering breath. The whispers beneath his skin rushed in to take place of the lingering silence. All speaking at once, all trying to ask questions and he collapsed back into his bed. He felt Meatball nudge at his face and he grasped the varghest, pressing his face against the cool, sleek scales. Tears began to slip out and he cried for what was lost. Individuality, freedom, and all that was left in its wake was fear.


	2. To Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Currently Unedited for quality, will do with time

"Good Morning, Inquisitor Lavellan." Cullen greeted the elven Inquisitor in shock, they had seen little of the man these days. They all knew the adjustments would take time. The Inner Circle had pitched in to hold things together, as the Inquisitors recovered...and fought each other. But now Inquisitor Lavellan looked more put together than he had in...well, ever. 

His armor was polished, his hair freshly trimmed, and even his boots shined. Said boots propped up on Cullen's desk as Lavellan carved at a wood block in his lap. 

"Good morning, Commander." Lavellan never even looked up from his wood carving; Cullen cleared his throat before going to sit behind his desk. 

"How can I help you?" Cullen was a bit at a loss for so many reasons right now, to even begin wondering why Lavellan would come to him of all people. 

"I'll be needing a small force to accompany me to a location back in The Arbor Wilds." 

"Excuse me?" He was sure he heard right, but why would Inquisitor Lavellan ever want to return there and with his men? Many times before Inquisitor Lavellan had chosen Leliana's agents over his own, it was Trevelyan who had put trust in the Forces of the Inquisition. 

Lavellan sighed, before setting down his tools in his lap. His bright blue eyes went unfocused. They seemed lit from within and yet merely a trick of light, Cullen was certain. The Inquisitor's lips moved without words and it only furthered Cullen's discomfort, unsure how to resolve the moment. Before Cullen had a chance to speak up, Lavellan looked back to him present once more. 

"Only a small team, chosen by you Commander. There is a shrine in The Arbor Wilds. The...Well had a suggestion to help us with Corypheus." 

"The Well...suggested to you...that you go back to The Arbor Wilds?" Nothing about this seemed...well, despite the Inquisitor's appearance. 

"Yes," Lavellan sighed again. "I know how it sounds, but this is why I took The Well. To listen and have it help us, and in turn to make sure it doesn't help Corypheus. Can...can we please be past the fact I stupidly and impulsively took The Well? We'll assume that since Caswyn is probably not coming back, because of said impulsive behavior, I'm the best we have." 

"Inquisitor-" 

"Cullen, please?" 

"Yes. I just wanted to say...you are not incapable. Even if we have perhaps not been on the best of terms; you've lead and helped us plenty of times, even with Inquisitor Trevelyan present. You were the Raven of Cumberland. 

Lavellan laughed, a cynical chill carried in it. 

"Well that was quite awhile ago now and I **did** some of my people killed. So...complement of soldiers?" 

"You will have it, Inquisitor." 

"Thank you...Commander." Lavellan gave a sigh of relief, and Cullen could see weariness wash over him. It was as if the conversation had taken a whole day's rest from him. Though instead of leaving, the Inquisitor stayed seated and went back to his carving. Cullen sat their a few more minutes and watched awkwardly, waiting for more before shifting in his chair. 

"Do you need anything else, Inquisitor?" 

"Nope." 

"Ah..." Cullen absently agreed, glancing between the Inquisitor and the woodwork in the Inquisitor's hands. 

"Unless," Lavellan started again, "you need me to leave Cullen? Though I would really appreciate just being able to sit here with you, while you work." 

Those words fried Cullen's brain. He could still remember how absolutely against him the elven Inquisitor had been. The man's late husband had been a mage and everything he stood against was once what Cullen had represented. Lavellan had tried making his life the void, from petty pranks to foolish jobs halfway across Ferelden. It only stopped when Inquisitor Trevelyan has finally persuaded Lavellan otherwise. Now, that same Inquisitor Lavellan sat across from him willingly...for want. 

"Cullen!" 

"Yes Inquisitor!" Cullen jumped up from his seat, standing at the ready for no reason other than he was already on edge and the Inquisitor barked. Something that made a half-hearted grin crawl across Lavellan's face and made Cullen go red in the face, though Lavellan never looked up from his work to see it. Cullen wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not. 

"I'm still gonna fuck with you. But you're my Commander and have **yet** to do me wrong, besides I've noticed you've gotten better about mages. Shockingly." 

"Thank you?" Cullen sat back down, finally relaxing a little more. This was much more the Inquisitor Lavellan he knew, the one he expected. Even if he didn't know how far this newfound respect would go, however, he felt brave enough to test it. "May I ask you something personal then?" 

"Sure." 

"Your husband, the one you mentioned when we first met, he died...was it Templars?" Cullen couldn't help himself. The Order often praised the senseless murder of mages and that was something he had long condemned, after having believed in it himself for too long. He wanted to know, truly. It would have explained Lavellan's instant hatred towards him, perhaps in some ways justified it. 

The Inquisitor stopped his carving once again, though he kept it in hand. It made Cullen worry that he had condemned himself to another bout of the Inquisitor's wrath in the future, but he had chose to press the limits of their new standings. 

"No." Lavellan started to carve again and Cullen leaned back in his chair, having gotten his answer and sure the Inquisitor was done with the subject. "My husband had a few run-ins with Templars, don't think otherwise. They threatened him with isolation, abuse, death, Tranquility. They hurt him in ways that left no physical scars and in some ways that did. There were times he even believed himself a stain upon the world, because of them and what they did...But no, they didn't kill him. I did." 

A deafening silence fell between them and Cullen wasn't sure if he should be shocked. He knew the full extent Lavellan's reputation, seen hints of what had been said of him when he was younger than he was now. Inquisitor Assan Lavellan, the Raven of Cumberland could be ruthless. But Assan Lavellan could also be a kind and self-sacrificing man to a fault. He wondered which of the two had been the one to end his husband, a killer of blood or one of mercy. If the circumstances had been dire, if his husband had become a danger to himself or others. If he had become an abomination in the end and Lavellan had- 

"You're thinking too hard over there, Cullen. I can see the smoke. If it helps ease you any, I didn't do it because he was a mage. A person's life isn't defined in life or death by being a mage. Everyone, magic or not lives and dies." 

"I apologize." 

"I'm not the one who needs it. I killed him and it had nothing to do with magic. Bad crowd, bad circumstances, and a dose of unique poison that I was responsible for mixing up. It's that simple." 

"I'm still sorry for your loss. I...hope things work out for you." 

"Me too." Lavellan shrugged, the wood in his hand finally taking some shape that Cullen couldn't yet discern. With some finality in their conversation and the clear air between them, Cullen finally begun his stack of papers. 

Halfway between an updated contract for their mercenaries and a request from one of Leliana's scouts, Cullen heard a thunk on his desk and felt the vibration drift into his arms from across the desk. He looked up and was surprised to see the Inquisitor had so quickly disappeared. He was even more surprised to see a small wooden lion staring back at him. It was rendered so the lion looked regal and proud, and roughly inscribed beneath it: 

_Commander  
Cullen Stanton Rutherford  
The Inquisition's Ass_

And Cullen couldn't help but snort, a smile on his face as he went back to his papers. The lion left in place as he went about his day. 

* * *

Assan raised an eyebrow as he stood before Dorian's alcove, not exactly sure what to do with the scene before him. Dorian was trying to look innocent, leaning against a bookcase with a hard-on that could slay a high dragon; while Iron Bull pretended to scan the shelves on the opposite side. 

"See Dorian, this is why he wears those gaudy pants. Can pop one without anyone noticing, while everyone and their mabari can see your...bone." Assan tried his hardest to deadpan, but a snicker slipped its way in. 

"Shut it! What do you want?" Dorian deflated, becoming bratty; which only made Assan grin. Dorian got like that when wound too tight, an experience long ago told him that. 

"Needed some help from our best archivist, on finding a book in Orlesian. But if you want to be a brat, maybe I should put in an official order for The Iron Bull to instill some **discipline**." Assan teased and it felt rather good after all the gloom and doom, over the past few weeks. It...made him miss Caswyn all the more. 

Dorian squirmed and huffed, before striding over to the large book of records. Assan moving to follow, but the heavy weight of a hand encompassed the back of his neck. It roll his head with a light push of large fingers and squeezed, causing all the unrecognized tension in him to melt. 

"You okay, boss?" 

"Mmm, yea." Assan leaned back into the touch and practically purred as Bull dug his fingers into the twisted muscles. 

Dorian cleared his throat. 

"What book were you looking for?" 

"Dolorem Domo Servitutis" Assan groaned, those wonderful fingers working a rough knot loose. 

"Servitutis? Why do you need a Tevinter book on slavery in Orlesian?" 

"Dorian, your man has fingers of a God. Why do you ever leave your bed?" He practically arched beneath the full neck massage, Iron Bull apparently decided he needed. 

"Boss, he asked you a question. Be good and tell us why you need that book." 

Assan felt a flush come over his skin, when he realized why Iron Bull had gotten his hands on him. He sidestepped Iron Bull's grasp, and finished crossing the distance to Dorian. His head clearing, even as his shoulders felt lighter. 

"It's for elf stuff, could you find me an Orlesian copy or not?" 

"It'll take a while, but it's not impossible." Dorian looked him over with a suspicious look and Assan nodded. 

"I can wait. Use whatever resources you need to get it to me. And enjoy yourself, you deserve a break; both of you." 

Dorian glanced over Assan's shoulder; looking for something before looking back at Assan. 

"Inquisitor, you deserve one as well. We know you've been adjusting to your new...situation, but taking some time just for yourself doesn't hurt either." 

"Of course, but I've take plenty of time these past few days. Wouldn't you agree?" Assan kept his voice light, if a bit thin and spun on his heel without receiving an answer. He exited the library through the door to Vivienne's balcony, hearing Dorian and Bull whisper behind him. Soft words exchanged, that were no doubt about him; but what was new? 

He started back to his room, drained after just a day of keeping it together. A day of wishing Caswyn was here and barely doing anything at all. Just keeping the voices at bay until he needed to consult with them. What little energy he had, was gone and the last dregs were used to get him up to his room. 

Once up the stairs, his eyes decided to land on a broken halla statue still sitting on the table. He had no energy left to deal with it and tears rose up again; soon he'd be out of tears. He'd run the Inquisition by himself and all this would be easier. Seeing his Inner Circle would be easier, they'd stop talking of him being alone or having some extra passengers. And until then...he'll sleep, thanks to Caswyn, he got good at that. 

He wiped away the tears with his sleeve, before gathering up the pieces of the wooden halla. The would do nothing but serve as reminders and it wasn't something he needed moving forward. He tossed them in with the firewood beside the fireplace and stripped for bed; not even bothering with the too-big shirt, someone folded onto the nightstand. 

Laid down with eyes closed, he hears Meatball pad out of the closet. The varghest hefting itself onto the end of the best and over his feet. The weight and sound of the varghest breathing more than enough to help him slip into sleep. 

* * *

It comes as he is speaking to Dennet. He'll need enough mounts to make the trip back to the Wilds. A horn goes off near the gates and he can see people rush towards the entrance of Skyhold, he almost dares to join them in case of an emergency. 

_"He comes because responsibility is meant to be held by two, and it is unfair to allow one to be crush beneath it." Cole appears besides Assan and while Dennet starts, Assan is no longer phased by it._

"Who is it, Cole?" 

_"Love you. Sorry I do, sorry I'm me, but I love you."_

Assan stiffens at his own words, mocked back in a voice similar to his own. He takes a step back, especially as cheers fill the air. It's cowardly and he knows it, but he marches himself into the hart's pen and sits down by his own Tirashan Swiftwind. Like a coward or a child, he curls against its side and it places its head over him; protecting him from whatever has made him smell of fear. 

He can hear Dennet from outside, Cole nowhere to be found. 

"Inquisitor Trevelyan! Welcome back and Biscuit too, his stables still ready for him." 

"Thank you, Dennet. I'm sure he is tired from the trip, I know I am." 

"We'll get him taken care of, don't you worry." 

"Have...have you, by chance, seen Inquisitor Lavellan?" Caswyn's voice sounded cold, like it chilled him to even say those words. 

"Inquisitor Lavellan? He was just here, but I...don't remember where he went? Back to the kitchens, I believe?" 

"Thank you." 

Assan breathes when he hears Caswyn dismount and walk away. And he realizes he doesn't want to leave his hart's embrace. He doesn't ever want to face whatever is waiting for him. Especially when he knows where they both went wrong. With Caswyn back, he is once again the more irrelevant of the Inquisitors. The human has returned...the elf can be held responsible now.


End file.
